


Love and Fire

by tisfan



Series: MCU Kink Bingo [10]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Begging, Bruises, Catharsis, Control, Crying, Dom Bucky Barnes, Dom/sub Play, M/M, Over the Knee, Paddling, Possessive Bucky Barnes, Spanking, Sub Tony Stark, Tony is a BRAT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 09:50:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12702393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Tony is a pushy, bratty sub, always looking for new ways to get in trouble. He needs a firm hand. And Bucky is going to Own that Ass.G4 square fill for Kink Bingo





	Love and Fire

 

There was nothing subservient in Tony’s sly glance, as soon as they entered the elevator and the assessment part of the evening was over. Bucky didn’t expect it. Tony was nothing if not the world’s pushiest, brattiest sub ever. It had taken a long time for Bucky to get him under any sort of control, and he’d been feeling his oats that night.

“How’d I do, boss?” Tony said, bouncing on his toes, hands behind his back, fingers spread as if he was already protecting his backside. As if he didn’t know. It was a number and he was Tony fucking Stark. No way he was going to miscount.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Terrible.”

“I’m all aquiver,” Tony said. “How bad is terrible? Is that better, or worse than _appalling_? On a scale of perfect Captain America to human dumpster-fire Clint Barton, how badly did I behave tonight?”

“First off, have you even met Steve?” Bucky rolled his eyes. “And you were _terrible_. Disrespectful. Insolent.”

“Horrid, even?” Tony asked, eager.

“Not quite _horrid_ ,” Bucky said. The elevator rose toward the penthouse and Bucky grabbed Tony’s tie and pulled him in. “But you were a brat, and you know it. I count twenty-three.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “No way,” he protested, because it was Tony. “ _Thirteen_. Where the hell did you get an extra ten from?”

Thirteen, they both knew was right in Tony’s mid-range. They’d gone to twenty, _once_ , and Tony’d been so sore he couldn’t sit for the better part of a day and a half, and even the next two days after that had been pretty uncomfortable, especially when Tony ended up having two back to back meetings that had him sitting in a board room for over three hours.

Bucky had a firm hand.

Tony… kinda loved it.

Or so he kept saying. And he kept looking for ways to get extra punishment.

“You had a drink,” Bucky pointed out.

“Yeah, that’s a count of two,” Tony said. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Not that one, the champagne I’d have only counted as one, because it’d be rude not to toast, once the hostess offered it t’ ya,” Bucky said. “But you had a whiskey at the bar, and that was a double.”

“Shit,” Tony said. “I didn’t think you were paying attention, dancing with Nat.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “I should add another one for you thinkin’ I’m stupid. Don’t you know, I’m always watchin’ you at these things, baby?”

Tony shivered. “That’s kinda hot. Little bit stalkery.”

Bucky only laughed. “If you don’t want t’ play in public, I’ll stop watchin’ everything you do.”

“I didn’t say that,” Tony said.

Bucky went through the rest of Tony’s offenses for the evening, including a lot of negative self-talk, putting himself down in public. It pissed Bucky off to no end that Tony was constantly beating himself up; when he did it around _other_ people, it meant the voices in his head were particularly loud.

The elevator opened and let them out. Bucky kept hold of Tony’s tie, dragged him into the living room. “Twenty-three?”

Tony bit his lip, shifting from foot to foot nervously. “Anything I can do now, to lower my count?”

“Hmmmm,” Bucky said, thoughtfully, tugging on Tony’s tie some more. “You can go over my knee.”

“You’re awful,” Tony complained. It was an awkward position, with his legs spread and hands down on the floor to keep himself upright. Tony prefered the bench, where he could relax into it, didn’t have to try to hold himself still.

“Uh-huh. But I’ll give you… hmmm. Five back?”

“I’ll take that deal,” Tony said, firmly. He took a deep breath, then added, “And I’ll blow you.”

“Baby, you were gonna do that anyway,” Bucky pointed out. “But… I’ll give you three more back if --”

“Why do I not trust you when you’re smirking like that?”

“You love it,” Bucky said. “You blow me. _Sitting_ on your ass after I own it.”

“That’s fifteen,” Tony said. “Deal. Only two more than I counted.”

“Okay. Take off the jacket, and your shoes and socks. I want you to be able to keep a firm foothold.”

“You gonna use my own belt to spank me with?”

Bucky was tempted, oh, god, the smack of the leather was gorgeous and left brilliant red slashes across Tony’s delicious ass. “Hmm, no, not tonight,” Bucky decided. “I think I’ll go with the original intentions. I own your ass. And you’re gonna remember it. Get ready.”

While Tony took off his jacket and hung it up, Bucky went to his bedside table and pulled out a special-order item he’d recently acquired. He hadn’t even shown it to Tony yet, just kept it in the custom wooden box and looked at it from time to time. If it worked as advertised…

“Ready, sir,” Tony said. He’d rolled his shirt sleeves up and loosened his tie a bit, and oh, good god, he was glorious. Strange, really; Bucky’d seen Tony naked hundreds of times, but there was something just delectable about that disheveled, casual look. Tony’s bare feet and his naked forearms, while still in that tailored suit, cut and fitted to perfection.

Bucky pulled the chair out into the center of the room and sat. Gestured to Tony, who promptly moved to within arm’s reach. Bucky tugged Tony’s belt loose, pulled it out of the loops and put it aside. He opened his trousers, yanked them down to Tony’s thighs. Underwear next, until Tony was standing there, shirttail covering him like a short dress.

“You hold that up with one hand,” Bucky told him. “If it gets in my way, I’ll up your count again. Clear?”

“Clear, sir.” His eyes flicked to the tool Bucky held loosely in one hand. “What is that?”

“Down,” Bucky told him, not answering.

Tony rucked his shirt up, holding it pressed against his chest with one hand. He leaned over Bucky’s lap and put one hand tentatively on the floor.

“You need some help stayin’ still, darlin’?” Bucky asked him.

“I dunno,” Tony answered. “Maybe?”

Bucky reached out and grabbed Tony’s tie, holding him in place with the strip of silk. It would pull from the back, he shouldn’t have trouble breathing, but it made the whole position even more precarious and awkward.

“And this,” Bucky said, waving the paddle around with the other hand, “is special, just for you.”

Wooden, hand carved, about four inches across, with an inset star in the center. According to the maker, it would leave a shaped bruise.

“You…” Tony stared at it.

“Gonna own your ass,” Bucky said.

“You are… amazing,” Tony said, breathless.

“Yeah, you want to try it out?”

“Tempted to try to earn some of my marks back, now,” Tony said, eagerly. “You bet I want to try it out.”

“We’ll see how you feel in a bit,” Bucky said. He rested the paddle on Tony’s back, kept his head pulled down by the tie, and ran his hand over Tony’s ass, as if checking for durability.

Every last bruise from their last play had faded, leaving Tony’s ass perfectly white and smooth and round. Sometimes Bucky thought it was a shame to mark him up, and other times, Bucky couldn’t wait to see the patterns, peachy handprints, sometimes, or thin red marks from a cane, or the wide, flush bruises from the ping pong paddle. Tony’d even, one time, aggravated Bucky so much while he was trying to bake a cake, that he’d used a wooden kitchen spoon on Tony, bent over the table.

Anticipation was always the best part, to Bucky’s mind. He rubbed Tony’s ass a few times, touching all that pretty skin, soothing the muscles underneath, coaxing Tony to relax. Ran his finger down the crack, teasing a little until Tony was pushing up into the touch, eager for it. Tested the pliant skin just below Tony’s balls, eliciting a soft moan.

Bucky delivered a few light swats, getting him warmed up, just enough to turn that gorgeous skin pink.

Tony squeaked at the first one, then pushed up on his toes, putting his backside on display for Bucky.

Bucky picked up the paddle and Tony’s entire body language changed from mischievous and teasing to quivering with anticipation. Tony tugged back, trying to turn, to see, but Bucky held Tony’s head down. Despite the fact that Tony always wanted to look, it was bad form for his spine to get all twisted.

A quick, sharp motion and the wooden paddle impacted with Tony’s left asscheek. The sound of the strike, almost a drumbeat thud, was followed by Tony’s yelp. “Oh, yow,” he complained. “That’s… not quite what I was expec-- OW!” Bucky swung again, landing another strike about three inches away.

Bucky leaned over to inspect the marks; medium pink, like a rare burger. He grabbed a handful of Tony’s ass and rubbed, making the blood circulate, stretching the skin a little. Tony hissed and then pushed into it, eagerly.

“How’s it feel, baby?” Bucky checked the marks; each star was a darker pink than the skin around it, but pink, not red. He might have to hit harder, if Tony could take it, if he wanted to, to get the color Bucky was aching to see.

Tony considered it. “Like a hot wire, for a second, then, spreading all out,” he said, finally. Squirmed around again, trying to see. Like he was going to be able to see his own ass with any degree of clarity from that position.

“Stay down,” Bucky said, moving his hand from the tie to the back of Tony’s neck. “You can see when I’m done. You ready for another?”

“Yes, sir,” Tony said, still cheeky and pert. Well, it always did take a while for the pain to get to him, to bring him back down.

Bucky swung a little harder that time, catching Tony on the meatiest part of his ass. Tony jerked, pushing frantically against Bucky’s legs with the force of his reaction. That was good, that star was crisp, edge-perfect, and rapidly filling with deep, rich red.

Changing the angle of the blow a bit, and Bucky smacked again; the four stars went in a simple, half circle, around the bottom of Tony’s ass, precision-laid out.

A fifth, sixth, and seventh blow in quick succession and Tony had stopped yelping and was down to whimpering, fingers clutching at the floor, desperately trying to tuck his ass down, as if Bucky wouldn’t see it. “What are you _doing_ back there?” he demanded. “Writing your goddamn name?”

“I think that would take more hits,” Bucky said. He laid the paddle down again, rubbing Tony’s back and thighs, avoiding the hot, red skin on his ass. “You doing okay?”

Tony nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said, quite a lot less sassy than before. Which was good; they were almost halfway, and Tony _needed_ the release. If Bucky couldn’t get him all the way up to at least gulping air and making soft sobbing sounds, he wasn’t doing it right.

“Almost halfway, baby, you’re doing good.” And because he couldn’t resist, Bucky leaned over and pressed his lips against that fiery skin, the heat against his lips, the way Tony twitched and shuddered at even the gentlest touch.

Bucky traced a line over the stars, the skin swollen in puffy little designs. Tony hissed and pushed against Bucky’s legs. Down, down, he traced the curve of Tony’s ass, still mostly unmarked, aside from some spreading pink. Ran a soothing hand along the inside of Tony’s thigh, and Tony’s sounds changed from whimpering to urgent little thready moans. “Hmmm?” Bucky pushed his hand up, between Tony’s legs until he was brushing against the base of Tony’s cock, over his balls.

The pain had gotten Tony to about half-mast, but those tender, sweet touches were pulling him to attention. Tony flexed, his hips moving in time with Bucky’s hand, rutting up against the outside of Bucky’s thigh. “Oh, god,” Tony murmured. “You are so _mean_.”

Bucky’s stomach clenched, thighs aching. He knew exactly what Tony meant. Arousal made everything so much more sensitive. So, of course, he had to keep going. Winding Tony up with slow strokes, cupping his balls, pressing at his perineum. Reached all the way under to play his fingers over the head of Tony’s dick, until he was squirming in place. Bucky had to keep his hand on the back of Tony’s neck steady, keep him from trying to dry hump on Bucky’s leg.

“Yeah, you’re my naughty boy,” Bucky told him. “So, so bad. You wicked thing.”

Tony was moaning in time with Bucky’s movements, fucking into Bucky’s fist. “Uh-huh,” Tony agreed. “God, what you do to me, honey.”

The leaking precome made a wet spot on Bucky’s jeans. Tony was groaning continuously, begging for more, harder, please, please, and Bucky loved listening to it, the air of desperation, the need that Tony had, not just for pleasure or sensation, but for _Bucky_.

Tony was perhaps a good half-dozen good strokes from being able to rub it out on Bucky’s lap when Bucky lifted the paddle again. “Break time’s over, baby. You ready?”

“Oh, god, yes,” Tony said, voice slurred with lust.

Bucky bit his lip, then started the swings. Second half of punishment, now that Tony was all warmed up, would go faster, the blows harder, and--

Tony whimpered when the first one landed, hitched in a breath and the second drove it out of his lungs entirely. “Fuck,” he muttered. His hands went down to brace himself against the floor, legs sprawling open awkwardly.

“Don’t forget about your shirt, baby,” Bucky reminded him and Tony squawked indignantly as he shifted, pulling his shirt up again.

Third, fourth, and fifth in a quick, drumbeat rhythm. Bucky cut these a little lower, dotting the crease of Tony’s ass between his butt and thigh, where it would sting the most to sit on, a fiery reminder every time Tony tried to sit.

Bucky rested the paddle on Tony’s back as Tony heaved for air, squirmed and writhed with discomfort, pushing against Bucky’s thigh in pain, and then hissed as it pressed against his desperately hard dick, until he was practically rocking back and forth and Bucky wasn’t even doing anything.

Bucky ran a hand over Tony’s stinging ass, letting his fingernails drag over the puffy little bruises. Tony out and out wailed at that, breath hitching harder. Moaning, so sweet and frantic.

By the time Bucky picked the paddle up again, Tony was begging, “No, no, no more,” he babbled. “No, _please_ , no, I’ll be good, I’ll be--”

Bucky took his hand off Tony’s neck and extended his fingers down.

Tony liked to beg, wanted to protest, that was part of the scene, but Bucky always worried that sometimes super-genius or not, he’d get too lost in his own head to realize that he could tap out.

Tony reached up, grabbed Bucky’s fingers and squeezed. _Go, green._ A way to check in, to make sure Tony really was okay, without wrecking the drama of the scene. Bucky squeezed his fingers back, then swung the paddle, letting Tony keep his head if he wanted to move.

Tony uttered a wounded little sound, and then --whap, another blow.

He was sniveling, begging, pleading, but never let go of Bucky’s fingers, each blow accompanied by another squeeze, and then…

Then it was over, and Tony was sobbing, finally able to let go of all the stress and anger and fear of his day-to-day life. Bucky put the paddle down and turned Tony gently, until he was kneeling between Bucky’s thighs, hugging him around the middle while Bucky patted Tony’s hair.

“It’s okay, baby, we’re all done, we’re all done, baby.” He murmured nonsense, soothing words while Tony shivered and wept, his face hot and sticky against Bucky’s stomach. “I got you, Tony,” Bucky said. “Everything’s okay now. Everything is okay. You’re so good, you’re such a good boy, Tony. I love you. It’s okay.”

Tony sobbed quietly for several minutes.

“Ug, I’m a mess,” he said, pushing back. He went to sit on his heels and hissed, popping back up immediately.

“Stings, does it?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tony admitted. His face was blotchy with crying, eyelashes still clumped together with tears and he was sniffling.

“You ready to move on, or do you wanna skip that bit and go straight to clean-up and snuggles, baby?” Sometimes Tony was game for sex, but sometimes the relief from crying was enough and he was more in need of a nap than anything else.

Bucky personally loved it, when Tony was wrung out, emotionally, face streaked with tears, expression open and _vulnerable_. Tony’d worn masks for so long, his whole life, that sometimes he forgot who _Tony Stark_ was, underneath all the facades. Bringing Tony to the surface, putting aside all the brilliant disguises and projections of who people wanted Tony to be, that was work, it was hard work, and painful. It left bruises. Sometimes left Tony bloody, but Bucky loved it. Loved looking at that gorgeous face, those luminous eyes, after all his walls had been torn down, and there was nothing between them but heat.

No walls. No masks.

Just love and fire.

Tony pouted. “You said I could get my mouth on you,” he said. He shifted uneasily, then, “but, could I have a cushion?”

“Your ass hurt, baby?”

Tony nodded.

“You go get yourself a pillow,” Bucky said, “while I get naked, okay?”

Tony lunged up, gave Bucky a brief, but thorough kiss, all hot, wet tongue and sensual heat. “You got it, sugarlump.”

Bucky watched him, then stripped. Tony got his pillow arranged to his liking, and then paused to look up at Bucky, eyes sparkling and eager, face still ravaged from crying.

Love.

And fire.


End file.
